C Sansom - Sovereign

‘How long is the King going to let James keep him waiting?’ he said anxiously. ‘He’s not coming!’

‘We do not know what messages may be passing between here and the Scotch court.’

‘He’s not coming!’ Wrenne repeated forcefully. ‘Jesu, would you come into a foreign land and place yourself at the mercy of someone like Henry?’

Barak looked around him anxiously; fortunately no one was within hearing distance. ‘Keep your voice down, Giles,’ I urged him.

He spoke in lower tones. ‘I speak the truth, as tha know’st. Oh, God,’ he said with uncharacteristic vehemence. ‘I want to make it to London.’

We left him with Madge and returned to King’s Manor. I prayed for him to be given enough strength to make his last journey of reconciliation. We had arranged to meet Tamasin for dinner. There was a casual air in the refectory as we entered, people talking and joking and eating sloppily as they had before the King came; they were used to his presence now. Tamasin was sitting at the table we had made our own, at the back with a good view of the door. She wore a fetching blue dress, her bright gold hair unbound below a small coif and tumbling to her shoulders.

‘Have you had a busy afternoon, mistress?’ Barak asked her fondly.

‘Quiet enough, the King and Queen have been away hunting for the day again. Good evening, sir,’ she said to me, smiling.

‘Good evening, Tamasin.’ I sat next to Barak, feeling like a gooseberry. ‘I will spend the evening in the lodging house tonight, I think,’ I said. ‘I have some papers to go over.’ I did not, but it would allow them some time together. Tamasin, realizing my purpose, gave me a grateful smile.

‘I had an interesting talk with Mistress Marlin today,’ I told her. ‘She told me more about her fiancé.’

‘Poor Mistress Marlin. She tells everyone who will listen. She should take care her accusations do not get back to Sir William.’

‘I doubt she cares. She seems to think of nothing but Master Locke’s imprisonment.’

‘Is that not understandable?’ Tamasin asked. ‘With the man she has loved all her life in the Tower? Some of the maids make cruel remarks, and cruel remarks can hurt-’

‘I know that well.’

‘Yet she has never burst out in anger, always held herself under control. I could have wept for her sometimes.’

‘She told me she thinks it is destiny that she and Master Locke should be married. I am not sure that such a degree of devotion is a healthy state of mind.’

Tamasin smiled, a smile that had something of steel in it. ‘I admire her determination.’

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Then Barak leaned forward. ‘There is something we should tell you, Tammy. Master Shardlake was attacked again last night.’

‘What?’ She looked up at me and now I saw the strain in her face and the shadows under her eyes. Barak told her about the bear. When he had finished she took a long shuddering breath.

‘So, but for the soldiers coming, you might have been killed?’

‘Ay,’ Barak answered on my behalf. ‘If they had not been near, guarding the prisoner.’

‘The man Broderick?’ she asked.

I looked at her sharply. ‘How do you know about Broderick? His presence here has been kept quiet.’ I turned to Barak. ‘Did you tell her? The less she knows, the safer she is.’

He looked uncomfortable. ‘Yes. But quite a few know.’

‘We must be careful about what we say.’

Tamasin gave me look of unexpected hardness. ‘I am always careful, sir. Life has taught me that.’

‘Tammy says Lady Rochford is watching her carefully,’ Barak said.

‘That she is.’ As Tamasin helped herself to pottage from the common bowl, I saw her hands were shaking, and realized again the strain she had been under since that encounter with Culpeper. She was good at hiding it but tonight it showed.

A DAY PASSED, then another and another, and still there was no word of the Scotch King. The guards still stood before the pavilions and the tents, the surfaces of which were cleaned with fine brushes every day. One day, as Barak and I were walking in the courtyard, I saw Sir Richard Rich standing in the doorway of one of the pavilions. He was studying me coldly. We turned away.

‘Any developments on the Bealknap case?’ said Barak.

‘No. I wrote to London, telling the council we should proceed, that I had hopes of the matter now. I doubt it will have got there; Rich will have ordered letters from me be intercepted before they leave with the postboy.’

‘Then why write it?’

‘So he could see my resolve stays firm.’

Barak raised his eyebrows, but said no more. I risked a backward glance. Rich had gone from the doorway.

THE WEATHER STAYED FINE but grew colder; the leaves continued to fall in the courtyard and were burned in big smoking piles. I went to visit Giles again the next day. He had rallied but I could see his square cheeks had fallen in a little more. I dined alone with him, and he told me stories of the cases he had dealt with in York over the past fifty years; lawyer’s tales, some funny and others tragic. Yet I sensed he had things on his mind.

‘Giles?’ I asked him at one point. ‘Have you thought of writing to your nephew? You could send a letter by fast messenger.’

He shook his head firmly. ‘No. Our quarrel was bitter, Matthew. He might ignore a letter. I need to see him face to face. Besides, I do not have his address.’ He looked at me keenly. ‘You think I am not up to the journey.’

‘You know best, Giles.’ I hesitated. ‘By the way, what chambers did Martin Dakin practise in, before your quarrel?’

He looked at me. ‘Garden Court. Why?’

‘It will help us find him. He is probably still there.’ I thought, the same chambers as Bernard Locke. That was a damned mischance. Or was it just a coincidence; there were not that many chambers at Gray’s Inn, and I knew the northern lawyers tended to stick together. But I would not tell him, would not worry him unnecessarily.

At ten Barak called as arranged to accompany me home. As Giles saw me to the door he laid his hand on my arm.

‘Thank you for your care,’ he said. ‘You watch over me like a son.’

‘No, no,’ I said. ‘Only as a friend should. Thank you for a pleasant evening, Giles. It has taken my mind from my troubles.’

‘Is your father’s estate settled yet?’

‘Soon. I have written to the mortgagee, told him I will have the balance of the funds when I get paid for my work here.’

‘It will be sad, though, letting your father’s farm go.’

‘Yes.’ And yet I had hardly thought of the farm at all. The realization I had no feelings for my childhood home made me guilty. I had a sudden vision of my father’s face. He looked sad, disappointed.

‘Is that all that troubles you, Matthew?’ Giles asked. ‘That girl and Barak looked mighty worried when she called the other day. And you seem – strained.’

‘Official matters, Giles,’ I said with an apologetic smile.

He raised a hand. ‘Well, if you feel you can talk of them at any time, I shall be glad to listen.’ He opened the door. I looked out at the dark narrow street. Barak, waiting outside, bowed. Giles looked between him and me. ‘Come over on Sunday, both of you, and I will show you round the Minster. I think you have not seen it yet?’

‘No.’ With all that had passed, I had forgotten my wish to see inside.

‘Bring that comely wench of yours, young Barak. It does me good to see her.’

‘Thank you, Master Wrenne.’